


fool's gold

by dansmithism



Category: Bastille (Band), To Kill A King (Band)
Genre: Multi, alternate univere - 90s, au 90s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-20 00:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18981865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dansmithism/pseuds/dansmithism
Summary: it's 1990 and the world is falling apart, so why not go on a bender?





	fool's gold

**Author's Note:**

> other things and other people will turn up, don't worry, buds.  
> hooray for 90s au!

The world was gone, now. There was nothing but his soul and the music; the bass thumping rhythmically through his entire body while his hands moved with the simple melodies, twisting and flashing into the air as though he were praising some type of deity in his own mind. Everyone else in the crowd had become a faceless blur of colour under the lights that streaked and blinked throughout the otherwise pitch-black abandoned warehouse while he seemed to exist for only as long as the music allowed him to exist - and, so far, it had allowed him to exist for the last few hours without suffering from some kind of breakdown. The remedy to his suffering had come in the form of a small blue pill that apparently rivalled ecstasy, but who the fuck was he to know? All he knew was to take the pill without question and swallow it down with a mouthful of water before slipping into the crowd and becoming totally, completely entranced by the loud music and colourful attack of blinking, strobing lights. Every move he made was done without thought. Every muscle moved of it's own accord instead of by his command. For a few moments... Minutes... Hours...? His eyes screwed themselves shut as he moved incomprehensively, jaggedly to the rhythm, a smile stretching across his face almost to the point of breaking. Why couldn't he feel this good all of the time? Why couldn't he be this stupidly happy at any other point in time? Why did it have to be at a rave whilst out of his skull on whatever the fuck he'd been handed as a taster? There was no time to question it anymore; there was only time to dance and enjoy this fleeting slither of life with everyone else in this giant, disused room.  
Suddenly, after he had opened his eyes, he had found himself outside, leaning against another man, staring blankly at the stars that glittered against what was left of the night sky. He wasn't sure how he had managed to get here, but he also didn't really care; he was much too happy being entranced by his newest view, being held up by his newest crutch.  
"'Ere, Dan, you want two's or am I finishing it?" The gruff voice from beside him sucked him straight back down into reality and forced his body to focus his attention on the man he had been leaning on. His eyes blurred a little as he tried to focus on the guy's face then the cigarette he was being offered and back again but, eventually, he reached out a shaky hand and waited for the guy to hand him the half a stick before gracelessly stuck it between his teeth and gave it a good, long drag.  
"Fuck, that's good!" He announced happily as he exhaled, closing his eyes again. "Mate, thank you, I needed that." He added, reaching over to kiss the man beside him on the cheek. "Well nice of you to share. Most people get stupid protective of their smokes... Almost like it's currency or some shit."  
"Yeah, well, don't expect any more off me, man... If you want some more, we're gonna have to leave and find a twenty-four hour shop or something to get you your own pack." Replied the man, adjusting himself so that Dan's weight was a little easier to bear.  
"Oooo, an adventure?" The scruffy skinhead squeaked excitedly, immediately springing upright and bounding on the balls of his feet like a puppy.  
"... I s'pose so?" Frowned his new partner in crime. Or was this an old one? Under this haze, Dan couldn't tell who he was or what fucking planet he was on anymore, let alone who he was physically talking to.  
"Let's go! Let's go! I'm itching to go on this quest, now, man... C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, we gotta get going!" He babbled, sucking at his cigarette in between sentences before grabbing at his pal's arm and yanking him toward the street in the distance that was illuminated by a single, flickering streelight.  
"Keep your fuckin' tits on, mate, Christ." Sighed the man, rolling his eyes at the excitable man child that vibrated in front of him. 

x x x x x x

"Ralph! Raaaaalph! Ralph!" Dan's voice was really beginning to grate on him now, especially since he had begun sobering up after their seemingly endless walk to this sodding garage in the middle of fuck knows where. Still though, he could finish this transaction with the dishevelled old geezer on the other side of the night hatch window and crack open a can of Foster's in a few minutes. Just the change... Ah, there we go.  
"Thanks, pal." He mumbled at the cashier, who grunted a response, before returning to his whining puppy. "Yes, Daniel, what can I do for you?"  
"Lookit, look! Watch!" Dan ordered him, that stupid half-grin plastered onto his face like a peeling sticker on a signpost. Unimpressed, Ralph did as he was told, watching with some scrutiny as his friend took a long drag off his newest cigarette and blew out an 'O'. He did it a few more times and all Ralph could do was smile and nod politely back at him.  
"Wow!" He replied, his tone vaguely sarcastic. "That's amazing."  
"Right? Fuckin' smoke rings! I couldn't do those before! Aren't they fuckin' Mega?" Exclaimed Dan, beaming proudly like a six year old boy.  
"Yeah, mate... Mega." Ralph hesitantly agreed, opening a can of beer and immediately chugging a good measure of it. If he was going to have to deal with Dan being like this the whole Hobbit's Journey home, then he sure as fuck wasn't going to do it sober. Not even a million quid would change his mind on that front.  
"Where we off to now?" Dan asked, deciding to collide himself into Ralph and forcing his friend into a sort of half-hug.  
"Home." Ralph told him, pointedly. "I'm knackered, man."  
"Home? But... There's a whole city to explore!" Moaned Dan, dramatically waving his free arm to gesture at the city that surrounded them. "We have to find another party. There's got to be like... A squat party or something, right? Hackney? Clapham Common? We have to find another party."  
"No, Dan, we have to go home." Ralph insisted, chugging at his can a second time.  
"One last party? Please?" Whined Dan, pushing out his lower lip and really trying it on with those big, blue puppy-dog eyes of his. "It is the end of the world, after all."  
"Yeah and I'd rather die at home, thanks." Ralph snorted.  
"One more. Just one and then, I promise, we can go home, okay?" Dan badgered, pulling at Ralph's shirt. "Go on, one final bang, yeah?"  
Ralph took a moment, sighed then nodded. "Alright... Fine... One more party... One; and then we go home so I can have a fuckin' lie down."  
"Deal!" Grinned Dan, letting Ralph go before scurrying off to a nearby payphone to find a contact who knew about any parties within the vicinity. Hopefully, Ralph thought, not too far away from home, because he sure as Hell was burning through London right now, wasn't about to carry this limp noodle home again.


End file.
